Sharing the Dream
by RipleysSister
Summary: This is on hold indefinitely. To be finished sometime in the future. General Jack O'Neill gets to Toronto where it's ice hockey, mini Jack, Greg Parker, the SRU, more hockey, more mini Jack, Greg & his son, the IOA & CIA, and other SG and FP characters.
1. Chapter 1

This _Stargate SG-1/Flashpoint_ crossover story was written for fun. Everything about _Stargate SG-1_ and _Flashpoint_ belong to somebody else. I am not profiting in any way and no copyright infringement was intended. I'm borrowing... just borrowing for a bit.

Story summary – Jack O'Neill goes to Toronto where it's ice hockey, mini Jack, Greg Parker, SRU, more hockey, more mini Jack, Greg & his son, the IOA & CIA, a twin from the past and other SG & FP characters. Mini Jack backstory-what's he been doing since he was 15? (Or as I originally had it - Jack O'Neill, President Henry Hayes, ice hockey, mini Jack, a twin, Greg Parker, more hockey, more mini Jack and another twin. And then add in the IOA and CIA. This story contains a back-story. Mini Jack is now 22. What's he been doing since he was 15? For this story I decided that he's going by the name Jon O'Neill.) Yeah I know, it's kind of the same. LOL Had to say something AND make it fit in the summary box for the crossover category.

Story time frame – Late September 2010

Content warnings - No profanity, no adult situations, no violence, no pairings (Rated K+)

Spoilers – Definitely for _Stargate SG-1 _season 7 episodes "Fragile Balance," "Heroes part 2," "Lost City part 1," "Lost City part 2," "New Order part 2" and "Evolution," and possibly for other SG-1 episodes. Definitely spoilers for _Flashpoint_ season 3 episode "Jumping at Shadows."

**Note: **This might have been two separate stories or even three, but I put it into chapters instead. _Flashpoint_ comes in at the end of chapter 2.

Story title: Sharing the Dream

* * *

Jack O'Neill gazed at the man towering above him. It was the end of the second period and the score was 2-1 making it a good game by almost any standards, and like so many others around him, he had just been thinking about getting up to stretch his legs and his back and everything else that had stiffened while he had sat glued to his seat watching the game. The hard plastic was not exactly uncomfortable and five rows off the ice on the blue line was a more than decent seat for a short notice game day ticket buy.

Even though the man was dressed in stonewashed 505s, sport shirt, lightweight jacket and Doc Martens, Jack identified him as secret service. After a quick glance around to see if there were any other people he recognized as agents, Jack pulled himself up slowly from the molded seat with a soft groan and in a low voice asked, "I take it you want me for something?"

The agent didn't look surprised that he'd been identified and lifted his hand revealing a white card embossed with the White House seal. Jack took the business size card from him and turned it over revealing a handwritten note that stated simply, "Jack. 10 min. HH."

Leaning in a little, the agent whispered, "He'd like a word, Sir," before the look from Jack encouraged him to give more detail. After all, had they come for him to take him back to the White House or was he expected on a secure phone line somewhere? Or more important to Jack, was he going to miss the final period? The agent understood immediately and volunteered, "He's here, in a suite upstairs," and then he stepped toward the aisle indicating that Jack should go with him.

Two seconds to stretch and then Jack was following the agent down the few steps and out to the concourse where they wound their way through the large crowd of fans looking for food, drinks and restrooms, or possibly heading to an exit to go out for a smoke. Jack wasn't aware of another man, also casually dressed, shadowing them until they boarded the elevator. In only a few seconds the three men were walking along a fancy suite level where agents were stationed at regular intervals and there weren't any other hockey fans. Outside a door on their left were two agents who stepped into Jack's path, blocking his entry just as President Hayes called out for them to let him into the suite.

The agents responsible for his safety rarely did what the president wanted. Jack had experience with their methods and knew what was coming next. There wasn't a metal detector, but an agent had a wand to swipe over him and knowing what he should do, Jack reached slowly into his pants pocket making sure the agent was watching him the entire time. Trying not to smirk, Jack told him, "I have a pocket knife," as he deliberately brought out his hand, palm up for the man to see what was in it. A small blade Swiss Army Classic rested in his hand, the white cross visible against the slightly worn red body. The agent took Jack's jacket and the pocket knife from him to get a better look and turned it over in his hand, revealing the engraving from so many years before. Jack didn't volunteer and the man didn't ask before he smoothly pulled out the six small tools. Satisfied it wasn't anything truly dangerous, even though a small blade, small scissors and a small nail file could be considered weapons, he waited for the hand wand and pat down before handing back both items. All the agents knew that Jack had hand-to-hand skills that were far more lethal than anything associated with the small pocket knife and moved away from the door opening to let him pass.

Jack stepped into the room where three of his senses were immediately tweaked. The television volume was fairly high, something smelled pretty good and most of the people in the suite were dressed in red, white and blue, the Capitals colors. Jack was familiar with all types of food offered at sporting events and the food in the suite smelled fancier than anything for sale to the ordinary fans, except in the restaurants. Having not eaten for a while, Jack was suddenly hungry.

He saw plates, bowls, silverware and large white napkins next to food warmers on a buffet counter and a man was standing in front of the open refrigerator in the kitchen area. There were half a dozen agents standing around the suite dressed in black suits and President Henry Hayes was seated in an arm chair across from a man that Jack recognized as Ted Leonsis, the majority owner of the Washington Capitals, as well as the Mystics and the Wizards. The room had to be at least double the size of the normal VIP or executive suite which made sense to Jack because if he was the team owner he'd want a bigger suite too.

His ears drew his eyes to the two very large flat screen televisions mounted on opposite walls before he noticed the theater style seats looking out to the arena where at least a dozen adults and half a dozen kids were seated. Jack didn't have time to try to figure out who the folks might be because the President, dressed in slacks and a golden bear golf shirt, was greeting him. Leonsis had also stood up and after a handshake where he was introduced as Jack O'Neill, not Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill, which suited him just fine, and after a few pleasantries about the game and the suite, he had been convinced to stay for a while and have a bite to eat.

It was free and the good smells were hard to ignore so soon he was loading his plate with savory short ribs, spicy meatballs, jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese and wrapped in bacon, seasoned potato wedges and Greek salad. Choosing what to eat would have been harder if he'd gotten there earlier he was told by a woman tending the warmers, because there had been seasoned meat and shredded lettuce, tomato and cheese for make your own tacos, BBQ pulled pork with sesame seed buns for sandwiches and chicken strips which had been snagged by many of the secret service agents and the younger children. Jack didn't know if all the VIP suites had that many main course selections, but he did know that what was there now smelled pretty excellent. He moved to the salads and snacks and found mustard potato salad, coleslaw, tortilla chips with dip or salsa, cashews, macadamias, pretzels, Goldfish crackers and green olives, and Jack was informed by more than one person that the dessert cart would be coming around.

Everything looked good and everyone was friendly, and soon he was setting his plate on a bar height round table and thinking about what to drink when the President joined him, toting his own plate and two bottles of Guinness. Jack thanked him and they sat down to eat and chat in the few minutes before the start of the third period.

With so many people in the suite and two loud televisions, it was easy for the two men to have a somewhat private conversation, but they were still careful about what they said.

The President smiled, asking "How long since you talked to him?" before taking a bite of potato salad.

Jack mentally kicked himself because he should have known that the President would have figured out that he was there to see the kid. Just like with Hammond, nothing got by the President. "A couple of months," Jack replied before enjoying a bite of salad.

Hayes nodded, nibbling on nuts. There was a minor disturbance at the door as a man entered carrying two large pizza boxes and he muttered "Mr. President" as he passed by to join the people in the theater seats where the kids were jumping around squealing about pizza. The President chuckled before turning his attention back to Jack and asking, "I'm sure there's plenty. You want some pizza? I think he said he was getting one with double pepperoni and one with Canadian bacon and pineapple."

Jack shook his head saying, "No thanks, that's okay," because he could have pizza anytime, and popped a potato wedge into his mouth.

He smiled as one of the kids ran by the table before an agent could grab him and the pizza delivering Dad was there immediately to reign in the boy and walk him back to the others. The agent didn't return to his original post, staying closer to the President instead. Jack noticed that he was close enough to hear, but he was one of the agents who had been with the President's detail in the White House when the hologram of Anubis had appeared. Jack knew that he and Hayes would still be careful, but at least the man knew about the Department of Homeworld Security and at least a little about aliens.

They ate in a silence for a couple of minutes before Jack expounded on his answer about communicating with his clone. "Jon sends an encrypted email to me every couple of weeks," meaning that they stayed in touch more often, just didn't always talk. "I reply to him when I have time."

The minor barb wasn't missed by Hayes who knew that it had as much to do with what the kid was doing with his life as it did Jack's busy schedule. The kid was living Jack's childhood dream of playing in the National Hockey League. Jack had learned to skate a month after learning to walk. As a talented young skater he had participated in a city ice hockey league, where he and the other boys talked about the Blackhawks, Bruins, Red Wings, Canadiens and Maple Leafs, and finally in 1967, when Minnesota got the North Stars, the boys were able to see a game or two. At night when he slept, Jack dreamed of either scoring the winning goal or preventing a tying goal as his team won the Stanley Cup, until in a nightmare week he broke both of his arms. In the hospital following surgery, 15 year old Jack had known that he would never play professional hockey. Now his childhood dream, and by proxy Jon's dream, was being fulfilled.

Glancing around to make sure everyone else in the suite was occupied and except for the agent, out of hearing range, Hayes stated, "You're going to the IOA meeting next week in Toronto." Jack eyes lit up; he should have known the President was aware of the IOA meeting change, even though it had only been finalized that afternoon. He also suddenly remembered that tomorrow Air Force One was taking the President, First Lady and others across the Atlantic on a 12 day goodwill trip so Hayes wanting to talk to him in person now made a little more sense.

Hayes could tell that Jack had figured him out and he asked, "Any chance the Maple Leafs will be playing at home?" before popping an olive into his mouth.

Jack smirked. Of course the President would know that the Maple Leafs would be playing at home and also that Jack had suggested changing the date of the meeting. "Yes, Mr. President." He didn't wait before explaining. "I had already checked the schedule before I asked everyone else about the date." He paused, wondering if Hayes would say something and when he didn't, Jack offered more. "Those meetings are torture, even only twelve times a year, more often in emergencies, and since I have to go to the meeting in Toronto, I figured… it's the kid, Sir," and smiling he added, "And it's…. you know… it's hockey."

The President recognized Jack's self satisfied smile; the one the man used so naturally when he was right, knew that he was right and wanted everyone to know that he knew they knew that he was right. Hayes looked into the self assured eyes of his head of Homeworld Security and grinned. He couldn't fault Jack for trying to make things a little more palatable. It was torture to deal with the IOA on a good day and his head of Homeworld Security worked long hours, sometimes not going home, and rarely took time off. George Hammond had been the same way. It didn't matter when the meeting was held and as long as the IOA didn't care, Hayes wouldn't care either.

Thinking about his late friend reminded the President about something else. "I'm glad you reminded the Joint Chiefs... and me about updating his paperwork." Jack nodded solemnly, acknowledging the statement.

George Hammond's name along with the former President and previous Air Force Chief of Staff had been on everything relating to Jack's clone. It wasn't that everyone had forgotten. It was that they hadn't thought about the kid. He wasn't scheduled to resume his Air Force career for a while and it was a case of out of sight, out of mind.

Jack offered, "He said he'd be glad to come in early if he gets hurt playing hockey or if we need him." He knew that everyone, including the kid wanted to stick to the planned timetable.

Hayes shrugged, admitting that it could be possible, but it was going to be tricky enough selling the young man as a major at 25 or 26, let alone at an even younger age. "Let's hope we don't need him early," he muttered, not wanting to contemplate what might necessitate activating him early.

* * *

It was midway into the third period of the pre-season game and Jack was still in the suite. He'd enjoyed the food and beer immensely and also the conversations with both President Hayes and Ted Leonsis. The three had discussed hockey, but also basketball since Leonsis owned both the Wizards and Mystics and they played at Verizon Center. Leonsis had been surprised at what Jack knew about women's basketball, but the President had merely looked smug, knowing from experience to never underestimate what Jack O'Neill might know about a subject.

When the dessert cart arrived, they had discussed after meal delicacies with Leonsis insisting that Jack try lemon meringue pie or death by chocolate cake or chunky cookies or a hand dipped caramel apple coated with nuts or any of the other dozen choices. The man even came back from the kitchen with carry boxes for Jack and the President to take a couple of desserts to go and Hayes made two selections for his body man while Jack scooped up a cookie variety pack for himself for later and a piece of cake for his driver.

The score was still 2-1 and the game was almost over. The kid blocked a shot, chasing after the puck before going down hard on a check and he watched as the younger man was up and racing to the other end of the ice before he even blinked. The kid had played almost the entire game and didn't look tired at all. His springy, flexible body was serving him well and Jack couldn't remember having that same effortless speed or reach with the stick.

Jack noticed the President looking at him, read his unspoken question and probable quip, and then with mirth smirked back at him. Yeah, he was jealous, but not because the kid was playing professional hockey. He was jealous of Jon's younger body with perfect bones and a mind with only memories of the two broken arms, concussions, skull fractures and other broken bones. Jon had only the memories of surgeries and sutures too numerous to count and only memories of scars from the operations, the fists, bullets, shrapnel, staff weapons, knives, a Reetou weapon, a Salish arrow and a Goa'uld symbiote, and Jack mentally shook himself to end the list prematurely.

None of it was important because the kid's young body was perfect and except for bumps and bruises, he'd had no fractures, no pulled tendons, no stretched ligaments, no torn meniscus, no thinned or worn out cartilage, no seriously strained or torn muscles, no traumatic ruptures or detachments, no sprains, no major bleeds, no significant cuts or abrasions, not even a hangnail. And he was still too young for arthritis. To say Jack was jealous was an understatement, but that didn't keep him from being happy for Jon. The kid was living _their_ dream, and it was sweet.

TBC

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Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for your reviews and messages. I appreciate your feedback very much. I hope you like this next installment.

* * *

Chapter 2

Jack steered his rental through the visitor parking lot, pulled into an empty space and turned the key. The base around him was bustling with people and many around him were getting out of other parked cars. His visit had been unplanned a couple of days ago, but a welcome one when the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs told Jack what they wanted him to do, as long as he was going to be in western New York anyway. Right on time for the tour, he got out and followed a young man and the boy's father into the building to the public affairs office conference room. He was relieved that the sign-in sheet only wanted his name and home state, but there were columns for additional information, if you chose to volunteer it. Jack wasn't about to do that, but he was impressed with the group waiting with him, happy that young people were still looking into joining up and even happier that parents were being supportive. A senior airman arrived and after getting everyone's attention, he directed them to a room off the conference room where they could leave their jackets, if they had them, saying they'd be going in and out of buildings and coming back to that same room at the end of the tour. Jack was wearing a long sleeved shirt so he hadn't needed a jacket in the cool fall air of the late morning. The airman, obviously enjoying his job, finished his rehearsed spiel with warnings about cameras and cellphones with cameras, about touching things they shouldn't and about staying with the group before directing them out the door.

Jack hadn't ever been to the Niagara Falls Air Reserve Station before and was impressed with the facilities and personnel, noting how clean and squaredaway everything and everyone seemed to be and how the personnel were pleasant and accepting of the visitors, but kept right on doing their jobs. The group had just entered a large hanger to look at a couple of planes when Jack realized that he had been spotted and it was too late to stay incognito. The only choice he had was to look straight into the surprised colonel's eyes and minutely shake his head to let the man know he didn't want to be singled out right then. It was exactly why he'd worn civvies and not checked in as Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill. He had planned to see of the senior officers The colonel understood his head shake and didn't give the group a second look as the visitors wound their way through the hanger and out the back door to the flight line.

When the group arrived back at the conference room half an hour later, the colonel was there with two sergeants to answer questions about enlisting and serving in the guard and reserves. Most of the guests were older high school or college age with a parent. A couple had two parents with them and then there were a few by themselves. Jack listened to a couple of the questions and answers before noticing the colonel giving him a subtle head nod toward a side door. Before Jack could acknowledge the invitation, the officer went out the door so Jack followed quickly and the tour guide was left looking panicked that someone was going to be wandering around without an escort.

Even though Jack wasn't in uniform, the colonel straightened to attention before being waved to ease and together they walked down a short hall and entered a private office. The sign on the door confirmed Jack's pre-trip homework that the colonel was the commander of the 914th Operations Group.

"I'm surprised to see you, General O'Neill," the colonel admitted, waiting for Jack to sit before easing himself into a chair. When they were both settled the man added, "The wing commander is unavailable until this afternoon. I hope there's something I can help you with."

Jack smiled, knowing that some guys really hated surprises, especially ones where generals showed up unannounced. The man looked almost the same as when Jack had last seen him, four years before, with a little more silver in his hair, but so did Jack. Several commanders and deputy commanders had been assembled and given a much abbreviated top secret briefing during the Ori plague. At the time, it had been possible that the President would order guard and reserve units to set up tent cities for quarantine and Jack had met many of the officers from the different installations. The colonel had been a lieutenant colonel and deputy commander of the 349th Operations Group at Travis and Jack had liked him.

"I could tell you that I was in the neighborhood," Jack said with a slight smirk, thinking and not saying 'but that wouldn't be the truth.' Glancing around the office and remembering the tour, he added, "Except for the winters this looks like a pretty nice assignment."

"Yes, Sir," the colonel nodded, not relaxing a bit. He was still wondering what the out of uniform general was doing at his little piece of Air Force real estate, but he was willing to play the small talk game. He had been stationed at Dover AFB since Travis, but didn't think O'Neill wanted to know that much and was actually very surprised that the man had remembered him. "It's not California, but my family and I are enjoying it here."

The colonel was gracious and patient, waiting for Jack, who had been listening, but was distractedly looking around the office at the model aircraft and framed pictures. Many seconds passed as the colonel waited like the good Air Force officer he'd been trained to be while his brain kept going through the possible reasons for O'Neill to be there. Without more information he couldn't be certain of anything but he was certain that the man was there for more than a tour.

Finally Jack turned his head and looking right at the colonel said, "The Joint Chiefs read your report on the Sept. 11 joint mobility exercise." He didn't want him to be more uncomfortable than he obviously already was because by all accounts the drill had gone much better than expected. With a sincere smile he quickly added, "It was a very successful first step."

The colonel seemed to relax a little with the compliment. "Thank you, Sir." Not knowing just what it was O'Neill wanted to know, he added, "It's still two years away, but we can't wait until the last minute."

Jack chuckled agreeably. "We can never train too much."

And with that statement the men had found common, level ground. They spent the next few minutes talking about the 2012 inspector general exercise when both wings based at Niagara Falls would be part of the first ever Air Force Reserve and Air National Guard C-130 association and participate in the operational readiness inspection together. Jack asked about videos of the exercise and the colonel made a call.

"I'll have them in a few minutes. Is there anything else you'd like to see?"

"Not right now. I have some other things to do for a couple of days and then I'll be back. At that time maybe I'll pick a couple of reports… randomly… to read."

There was a knock on the door and after a sergeant handed a box to the colonel, the colonel examined the contents before handing the box to Jack.

Just wanting to confirm Jack asked, "These are copies, right?"

"Yes, Sir. Did you want to take them with you or view them while you're here today?" The man again displayed how nervous he was feeling.

O'Neill wasn't looking forward to watching with an audience anywhere around. There would be lots of slow places and he wanted to be able to fast forward so he said he'd take them with him and bring them back when he returned. Noticing the colonel's uncertain demeanor, Jack tried to reassure him.

"Someone from Lieutenant General Stenner's command is scheduled to be here in a week or two." Jack didn't remember the exact date, but knew it was in about 10 days or so. It was a statement, not a question and the colonel's eyes narrowed slightly as he nodded once to acknowledge that Jack's information was correct. The AFRC command chief was expected on Oct. 5 as part of the 36-month effort to tour 36 installations.

Jack noted the man's response and continued. "I'm here… independent of that. Civilian authority has been making waves and the joint chiefs are running interference. Anything they or I have to tell you will come directly to you." Jack's gaze centered on the colonel's eyes trying to convey that none of it was a bad thing and finally after a few seconds Jack saw the colonel breathe.

"Yes Sir. Thank you." The colonel wondered if Lt. General Stenner was aware of the interference, but decided not to ask Jack. A few more minutes of small talk and Jack was on his way while the colonel got on the computer and made a few calls.

* * *

The score was 1-0 and Jack had just returned to his seat after a short trip to the men's room. Intermission was almost over and the skaters were circling the ice in preparation for the start of the next period.

He'd made it across the bridge to Toronto without any fuss and had checked into his hotel. The Holiday Inn Express in downtown Toronto wasn't fancy, but it was more than adequate, close to just about everything in the area and had government rates. Jack didn't need to be staying at a five star and preferred not to since he had to check in using his military ID. The clerk had gasped a little when he saw that Jack was a three star general, but calmed instantly when told that he was just a guy on vacation. He wasn't really on vacation since he had to attend the meeting with the IOA representatives, but he was going to see a couple of hockey games and that made some of it down time. He didn't know where the IOA people were staying and didn't care, though he figured they were at the most expensive and exclusive hotel in the area.

He had walked the distance from the hotel to The Air Canada Centre, guessing it to be just over half a mile. The weather had been perfect, he was wearing comfortable shoes and walking along the clean streets of Toronto had been quite pleasant. The line at the will call window had been short and he when he got to the front he had been told that he needed to go to the VIP window. The kid had said a ticket would be waiting for him and sure enough, an envelope with his name on it contained not only a ticket for that night's game, but also a ticket for the next game against the Canadiens in two days. Jack smiled as he read the note with the tickets.

_Hey Old man, welcome to Toronto and the ACC. I would have gotten you lower bowl platinum seats but I knew you'd hate watching the game next to suits eating sushi and the club seats are a little higher up.  
You won't have in-seat service or a washroom for just your section, but Lord Stanley's Mug will be right behind you and there's a men's room that's close. If you arrived early like I hope you did, get the pastrami  
__on rye with a kosher dill and for a snack later on I recommend a treat bag of brownies and cookies. Your seat is in a great spot, on an aisle, and since I know where you'll be, I'll look for you.  
__Stick around after if you want and we can go for a drink or more food.  
Jon_

Jack had arrived early and acting on the kid's suggestion had enjoyed a delicious pastrami sandwich made with steamed lean meat and spicy dijon mustard on toasted rye bread and a tall Molsen at Lord Stanley's. After a trip to the men's he'd found his seat and it was excellent indeed: gold section 107 (just across the aisle from 108 so close to center ice) row 11 with his seat on the aisle. It had good legroom, comfortable upholstery and a completely unobstructed view of the ice and just about everything else in the arena.

He'd been to the temple of Toronto hockey, Maple Leaf Gardens, but this was his first time inside the Air Canada Centre. The view from his seat was fantastic and Jack was having a really good time when just before the first intermission, an usher had handed him a piece of paper and opera glasses. Frowning at the young man who delivered them, and thinking it had to be a joke, Jack handed the usher a tip and thanked him before really looking at anything. The glasses were adult though small and powerful optically, and he chuckled before opening the folded paper, still guessing that they'd come from Jon since nobody else knew that he was there. Sure enough, the note was from Jon and it said that an old friend of theirs was there at the game, in the ACC. No seat number was specified, but Jon had written _'lower bowl end zone ~ 25 rows up_.'

Trying to see with just his own eyes wasn't going to cut it so Jack used the opera glasses which actually looked a little masculine since they were black with gold trim, to scan the sections in the end zone. It took him a few minutes to scrutinize each face, but then he saw him. He was with a bald guy close in age and two kids, and except for being a little older and with a little less hair, he looked just about the same as when Jack had last seen him in Central America. A dozen questions bombarded Jack's brain as he tried to figure out what the guy would be doing in Toronto. Studying the two men, he decided that they must be friends and from the laughing and friendly banter seen even from a distance, Jack guessed that they were close friends. Before the end of the second period, Jack headed for the concourse so he could make his way over to the area behind where the men and two boys were seated. Hoping they would also get up and take a break, Jack positioned himself where he would most likely see them when they went looking for restroom, food or drink.

He had timed it perfectly and was in the right place when the period ended and after about a minute the two men and two boys walked almost right up to him before cutting right toward the restroom and concourse. None of them had given him a second glance. There was absolutely no recognition of Jack in the man's eyes or his face and he had looked directly at him. The guy was the spitting image of Burke and the likeness was too close for it to be mistaken identity so the man had to be either a twin or a brother close in age, or… and Jack almost couldn't think it… a clone.

TBC

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Thanks very much for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for reading this story and for reviewing. I hope you like chapter 3.

* * *

Chapter 3

"Did you see Burke? Did you talk to him?"

Jack took in the younger version of himself, smirking slightly at the way he had barged right into the questions without even a 'hello' or a 'how are you?' Trying to look like an American tourist, he was wearing faded jeans, a plaid long sleeve flannel shirt and on his head was a black University of Wisconsin hockey cap, known as an Icer Hat. He'd taken the time to dry his hair after his shower and Jack noticed it was quite a bit longer than it had looked under a hockey helmet. And he was wearing a pair of rectangular shaped olive green glasses with clear lenses. The two men moved to the side of the concourse as a few late leaving Leafs fans came walking up talking excitedly about O'Neill's winning slapshot goal in the final minute, and for a second it looked like the five were going to talk to Jon, maybe congratulate him or ask for an autograph, but they looked right at him and kept on moving toward the exit. His 'disguise' had worked.

He'd grown another inch or so since Jack last stood next to him and appeared to be a little taller than Jack had been at 22, and the older O'Neill couldn't help but wonder about the other little changes that Thor had made when he had fixed the young clone the first time and altered him six months later. The kid didn't look exactly like a young Jack O'Neill anymore, which was good for both of them, but especially for Jon. He would continue to grow up and age without being the spitting image of Air Force General Jack O'Neill and for that, Jack was grateful to Thor, and he knew Jon was too.

Waiting, but not patiently for Jack to respond to his questions, Jon bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. "Jack? Burke?"

Suddenly realizing that he hadn't yet answered the questions, Jack said simply, "It's not him."

Jon frowned. The look on his face was confusion and perhaps a little disbelief. The guy looked exactly like Burke. How could it not be him? "What do you mean it's not him?"

"It's not Burke," he told him, knowing the eventual explanation wouldn't satisfy the younger O'Neill's curiosity anymore than it had his own. Some more fans were walking past them and a cleaning crew went by hauling equipment so the two men exited the arena with Jon promising to take Jack to a place he was sure to like.

They didn't have much time to talk before Jon was leading him to what looked like the back door of a dive down the street from the ACC. Turned out to be the front door, but you wouldn't know it unless you'd been there before. The interior lighting was muted, but not dark, with more light along the side where there were a couple of pool tables and the aroma greeting each person was heavenly. The bartender smiled when he saw them, telling Jon about the great goal and the winning game and then he looked at Jack, and waited for an introduction. Jon introduced him as Jack O'Neill to Lucas Tremblay and let the man draw his own conclusions, which he did without questions or comments. The two shook hands and the bartender, after giving Jack a long look, asked Jon if he wanted his usual and then directed them to Jon's favorite table, which had a small 'reserved' placard on it.

Seated in a far corner of the place, Jon took off his glasses and told Jack to trust him about the food and drink order before explaining to him about how he had discovered the seemingly hole-in-the-wall neighborhood pub with its wood fired brick pizza ovens and clientele, who valued privacy as much as O'Neills did. It wasn't any time at all before two plates and two bottles were placed in front of them along with a stack of napkins and Jack had to admit that he was hungry. The pastrami had been good, but pizza aroma never failed to spark his hunger anew. They each had a Moosehead in the familiar green glass bottle and a generous slice of pizza, which to Jack looked like a triangular piece of heaven with pepperoni, bacon, roasted peppers and roasted green chiles peeking from beneath the melty cheese, and the top was lightly dusted with fresh basil. Jack caught Jon smiling at him as he took the first bite, like he was waiting for approval and of course he was, and Jack didn't disappoint when he moaned in pleasure, exaggerating his "Mmmmm."

Caressing his taste buds were at least two cheeses he recognized, mozzarella and Asiago, and hidden beneath to surprise his mouth were sliced green olives. Only one place in Colorado Springs offered a choice of green or black, everyone else only offered black olives and while they were very good on pizza, green olives with pimento provided a briny accent which melded yet contrasted with other pizza ingredients giving a unique flavor. So far in Washington, D.C. jack had not found a pizza place offering green olives, so he sometimes added his own after delivery.

Jon flashed his 'I told you so' smile and inbetween bites informed him about the fresh mozzarella, the special lean smoky bacon, the green olives and the fresh basil, grown in pots behind the bar.

Pausing between bites Jack took a couple sips of beer and then asked, "Is that garlic oil I taste?"

His younger counterpart nodded enthusiastically and kept on chewing, enjoying his own slice of heaven, but after swallowing he explained that it was actually garlic infused olive oil which had been carefully brushed on the pizza dough.

They finished eating in silence before Jack just had to know, "Where are they getting their New Mexico green chiles?"

Jon laughed as he said, "From New Mexico." Then he told Jack about the green chile chicken soup, green chile stew and chile rellenos that the bar also served on different nights during the week and Jack had to agree that Jon had most certainly found a diamond in the rough.

Since it was past 10:30, Jack stopped at one slice while John ordered a second exactly like the first. He explained that he sometimes ate three or four slices, but that night he wasn't as hungry because he had eaten a huge late lunch and had snacked on spicy Slim Jims during intermissions. Jack could only shake his head at the kid's younger stomach and digestive tract which was obviously not sensitive at all. While they waited for Jon's food, Jack explained about the man who looked like Burke.

* * *

Jack had followed the foursome covertly, thinking about the implications of a Burke look-alike. He knew nothing about Burke's family, didn't even know if Burke was the man's real name. He had worked for the CIA for many years, but that fact alone meant nothing about the guy's name or history or if anything Jack thought he knew about him could be believed. CIA operatives exist in shadow with most of their family members not aware of their true employment, let alone neighbors or acquaintances.

Bits of overheard conversation had revealed that the friend was named Ed and one of the boys was Clark who had called Ed, Dad. The other boy didn't call Ed or the Burke look-alike Dad, but had called the other kid by name, though they didn't appear to converse very much at all. Most of the conversation was about the hockey game and the players, and upon entering the restroom Jack found his target washing his hands at a sink so he stepped up next to him. The dark haired teenager slipped up to the sink on the other side and Jack used the mirror to look at them both, comparing facial features. There was a resemblance and he decided the kid could be a son, but all too soon the foursome was ready to go so once again Jack casually followed them out. The two boys were talking about hotdogs and pretzels, and Jack concluded they were not American, but Canadian. The two men spoke in a much lower volume and Jack heard Ed say that he was glad they were off duty and able to get tickets to see the Leafs in the hangar, which Jack had read was a local nickname for the ACC.

Jack had hung back a bit more, watching them, and decided if the two weren't military thenthey were definitely law enforcement. He didn't believe they were carrying weapons on their bodies, but after paying closer attention to their shoes and pants, decided that they were wearing ankle holsters confirming his opinion. While standing in line for food, Jack heard Ed call look-alike Burke, Greg, and then he heard something which he knew most US law enforcement departments didn't specifically use. SRU was the citizen self-reporting unit in Madison, Wisconsin, Slippery Rock University in Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania and the Strategic Response Unit in Toronto, among other things, and after weighing what he knew for a few moments, Jack was certain they were police, but not western Pennsylvania police. It would help to have last names, but Jack knew that he could find out who they were, assuming his conclusion was correct. And if he needed a search for Greg's face to find out more, he knew he just needed to use a photo of Burke. Intermission was almost over so he had wandered away from them to go back to his own section and seat, suddenly remembering that he didn't have a photo of Burke and knowing that he hadn't been as covert as he could have and should have been.

* * *

"So, not-Burke is a cop?" Jon sipped his beer, his gaze drilling into Jack's eyes.

Jack nodded once and responded, "I think so." He took a sip of beer and added, "And a twin."

Considering for a moment what they knew, Jon asked, "Know someone who will tell you what _we_ want to know?"

Jack couldn't help it. He smiled big and nodded, certain that finding out about Burke and his apparent brother wouldn't be too difficult. Jon had not been read in on the Stargate Program since 2003, but Jack didn't have any reservations about agreeing to let him know about the two men. Technically they didn't have anything to do with the Stargate program.

After a bit of small talk with Lucas and a minor argument about who would get to pay the tab, Jon and Jack left the pub and started walking north. There weren't any other pedestrians that they could see and they hadn't gone half a block when two Toronto police cars pulled over to the curb behind them and four officers got out. Two were clad in official uniforms with combat vests and they carried weapons, while the other two were in civilian clothes. The O'Neills instinctively knew what what it was about and looked at each other with twin 'Oh for crying out loud' expressions before standing still with their hands open, palms revealed, while they waited for the officers to approach and identify themselves, which the two in civvies did rather quickly.

"SRU. We're investigating a possible threat against two of our officers. Identify yourselves."

Jon went first and easily dealt with the surprise about his identity and he removed the clear lens glasses, placing them in his shirt pocket before taking off his hat. He opened his wallet, but the male officer barely looked at the ID before indicating he could put it away. Jack produced his identification by taking his driver's license out of his wallet and handing it to the female officer. He would only give her his passport if she asked for it.

Jack heard their names, Callaghan and Scarlatti when they flashed their official IDs, and after a minute of the two speaking softly, the male asked the probing question. "Why were you following Greg Parker and Ed Lane ACC?"

Both Jack and Jon had stored the names for future reference and glanced at each other before Jack replied, "I didn't mean to follow them. Greg Parker looks like somebody I know." Okay, part of it was a lie.

The two uniformed officers stayed to the side of Jon, talking hockey while the others conversed with Jack. They wanted to know what he was doing in Toronto, which of course he didn't tell them everything about his visit. He hadn't told them he was an Air Force officer and after a brief conversation it came down to them wanting more information about Greg Parker's look-alike. It made sense that they would want to know. They didn't need an impersonator running around Toronto pretending to be Parker bringing about mistaken identity issues.

"I'll tell _him_," Jack revealed, knowing that they had no reason to detain him, but not wanting to even go to a station to talk to anyone. Parker had been at the game and Jack couldn't help wondering where he was just then. It was a good thing the IOA meeting the next day was a luncheon and Jack could sleep in because he was feeling a little tired, and he was mentally kicking himself for not being more discreet, especially after he realized the two were police officers. Plus he wanted Jon to come back to the hotel with him for a few minutes so they could talk some more or decide definitely to meet again after the next hockey game.

The two SRU officers looked dubiously at him, perhaps pondering if he was being honest, but Jack hadn't given them any reason not to believe him or to question his sincerity. It occurred to him and also to Jon, though neither knew it at the time, that the officers hadn't questioned how Jack knew the look-alike resembled Parker and not Lane. The gal, Callaghan, returned to the patrol car and used the radio, returning after a couple of minutes.

She handed Jack his license. "Sergeant Parker would like to talk to you, but not tonight. Will you be available tomorrow?"

Jack nodded and said, "Yes, before 9:30 and after 5." He hadn't been rude in his declaration, but had made it clear that he was only available during the times specified. The IOA meeting was a luncheon at a place called the Estates of Sunnybrook and he wasn't certain how long it would take him to get there or to get back.

There was a long drawn out pause before she asked where he was staying and he answered. After all, there wasn't any reason for them not to know. The two officers were a lot more relaxed and joked with Jon about him being out on the street with rabid hockey fans running around everywhere. After a few minutes the two men accepted a ride for the short distance to Jack's hotel where Jon assured them that he could get home from there just fine.

Callaghan had gotten out of the car and asked, "You are registered in your own name, aren't you Mr. O'Neill?"

"I am." There wasn't anything else for Jack to say.

"Sergeant Parker will call you," and she hopped back into the car, not asking about a cell phone number, which was just as well because Jack didn't want to give her or the Toronto police department the number, and then the police cars sped away.

Jon and Jack stood on the walkway outside the main hotel entrance, first watching the cars drive away, and then looking at each other they started laughing.

TBC

* * *

Burke – a character played by Enrico Colantoni in _Stargate SG-1_ season 7 two part episode "Evolution."

Greg Parker – a character played by Enrico Colantino in Flashpoint season 3 episode "Jumping at Shadows," Greg gets a surprise visitor at the station – someone he hasn't seen for eight years – his son. I read in a blog that his son is named Dean, but I couldn't confirm this so I haven't used it yet. Maybe next chapter.

The Hangar – a nickname for the Air Canada Centre.

SRU – Strategic Response Unit – elite tactical unit in a Canadian metro police department. Different things like landmarks and flags, etc,. suggest that Flashpoint's SRU is based on Toronto's Police Emergency Task Force. This has been confirmed in several sources.

Note: In my Stargate world, Jon's appearance has been altered by Thor. There will be more about this in either a separate chapter or a separate story. This story's back story will have info about Jon, but I have decided to write most of his history - from 15 to 22- in a separate short story. At least I think that's what I'm going to do.

* * *

Since _Flashpoint_ and its characters are now a major part of this story, I'll be moving this to the crossover category. Thanks very much for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed even one chapter of this story. I appreciate it very much.

* * *

Chapter 4

Greg Parker stood silently on the walk outside the two-story Victorian row house. The closed door and dark porch light kept the home from looking inviting, but he knew differently. His ex-wife would keep the place neat and clean and he was sure there would be pillows on the sofa and chairs, a candle or two or maybe a scented oil burner, and lots of family photos in frames on the walls. With that last thought his gut wrenched and he knew he should get going.

It had been a strained and strange evening, starting with the hockey game with his son and ending with his team members being dispatched to address a possible threat to Eddie or himself. Or heaven forbid a threat to one of their sons.

Without Ed and Clark along, the silence between Greg and his son would have suffocated them both. Except for being related, they had little in common and had seen each for the first time in ten years only a few weeks before. Greg's ex-wife had been furious that Dean had contacted him, especially after learning that the boy had changed his mind about visitation with his father and had started insisting on it. The courts had agreed that at 16, Dean was old enough to decide for himself.

It had taken his mom quite a while to accept that the kid wanted to know his father, and a lot longer before she'd allow him to go anywhere with her ex-husband. The hockey game had been their first outing lasting longer than an hour and farther than two miles away from the boy's home. Greg concluded that she had agreed to let Dean go to the game with him only because Ed Lane and his son would be going too and Ed would be driving. Though she had misgivings about Ed, and had not been shy about voicing them, the fact that Greg would not be alone with Dean and that another boy about his age would be going too, had seemed to pacify her.

Ed had been having his own family problems and the game had been a chance to show his wife that his family, his relationship with his son and with her, did not come in second behind the job and it had been especially important for him to spend time with Clark since finding out that he'd soon have another child. Greg and Ed had steered the conversations which started with hockey, and went back to hockey, and Clark, though a little younger than Dean, had seemed to relate very well to the boy, especially when talking about the Maple Leafs and rival Canadiens.

Their four ACC seats had been great and with the game as a distraction, they hadn't needed or wanted to talk about anything else, especially family matters. Greg hadn't seen or spoken to his son in so long and had been struggling to get reacquainted with the kid, to know more about him and to figure out what made him tick. And he had known the boy would have the same problem, especially with his mom's feelings and the way the pair had separated and then divorced. For Greg, the purpose of the lawsuit had been to force visitation so he could get to know his son. He wasn't the same man he'd been 10 years ago and wanted another chance, not at the marriage, that was clearly over and his ex had remarried, but another chance at fatherhood. The boy's visit had precipitated everything and now Greg was getting the chance to know Dean and for Dean to know him.

The drive after the game had been good, with the conversation alternating between hockey and silence, but mostly hockey, which had probably been better than any number of deeper subjects that both fathers and sons would have been eager to avoid. Dean's mom had been waiting and she had ushered the kid inside with only a slight head nod to Greg and had probably just been glad to have Dean at home, safe and sound and her ex outside the door when she had closed it. He wanted to believe that before she pushed the door closed that her mouth had formed a small smile, perhaps a hi or thanks for taking care of our son kind of a smile, but he couldn't be certain and decided he had imagined whatever it was her mouth had done. The car headlights came on, momentarily startling him, and Greg realized that he had been standing there staring at a closed door, a dark porch and a past life.

Settling into the front passenger seat of the car, he took one last look at the house before Ed started the car and they drove away. Greg's thoughts had not been on Ed, Clark, the road, the traffic or anything about being driven to his own home when his cell phone began ringing, and he pried it from his pocket.

* * *

Earlier that evening the fifty-something man hadn't set off any alarms, at least not at first, and both SRU officers had natural and finely honed internal radar so they probably should have sensed something about him. Neither he nor Ed had even noticed the guy until he'd been in the restroom at the same time and then again in line with them to get pretzels. The kids had just been handed their warm doughy treats when Greg had noticed the stranger that he had seen earlier. The man hadn't been obvious, but he had definitely been looking at their group with just a little too much interest, and if Greg had had to guess, the interest had been focused on him or his son. He appeared to be in good shape and good health and was pretty good looking for an older guy. Greg had noticed a couple of women checking him out and decided it had been because he was tall and striking, with chiseled features, kind of rugged looked and had piercing brown eyes. Greg hadn't been suspicious of him at all until he'd been close to them, having apparently followed them, listened to their conversation and then he had walked away without buying anything. While the boys waited for their drinks, Greg and Ed had quietly compared notes and decided that the guy needed to be checked out.

Ed had gone back to the seats with the kids while Greg had followed the man back to his own and then with the man in sight, he had made a call. Jules had been more than concerned, insisting that she get another member of the team and a couple of other officers and find the guy and maybe put a little pressure on him to find out what he was planning. They'd arrived at the arena too late, but after speaking to ACC security personnel they had learned that two men, one matching their description, had walked to the pub just around the corner and Spike had gone inside to see what they were doing. He'd observed them sitting at a table, Jon's back had been to him but he'd seen Jack and he had decided to leave them to finish eating while he talked to Jules. The two SRU officers had just decided to approach the two men when they had been observed leaving the pub and walking north.

* * *

The conversation with Jules had been short since there hadn't been much to talk about. He'd told her to let the man stay the night at his hotel because there had been no reason not to let him and wait on a background check. The guy hadn't broken any laws, at least not yet and he had suggested that he and Greg meet. And while it didn't count for a whole lot, he had been with Jon O'Neill who shared the same surname. For that reason and a gut feeling, Greg had been okay with letting Jack go until he could see him and speak to him the next day. He knew that Jules or Spike would confirm that O'Neill was actually registered and staying at the hotel and would have someone keep an eye on the doors. And that person or persons would let someone know if the man went anywhere. He had considered investigating O'Neill, off the record and discreetly, but with the man being an American, keeping it discreet would have been a problem. Greg had decided that he would hear what the man had to say before jumping to any conclusions and he had tried to put it all out of his mind when he threw himself into bed as soon as Ed had dropped him off.

* * *

Jon lounged in a chair while Jack sat on the bed with his back against the headboard with his legs splayed and a pillow underneath his left knee. They had spent the last several minutes in Jack's hotel room discussing life in general but mostly Burke and the Burke look-alike and Jack had told Jon a little about the last time he had seen the CIA agent. Jon and Jack had severed ties and Jon had been back in high school for only a few months when Daniel and Dr. Lee had been taken hostage and held for ransom by anti-Honduran revolutionaries. Burke had then helped Jack retrieve them, or if you listened to Burke tell the story it had been Jack helping him in the jungle, and the two had come to an understanding about a past event that had haunted them both. Returning to the US from Central America, Jack had used a contact or two to put in a good word for Burke and only a cryptic message left on his home answering machine had informed him that Burke was happy in his new assignment.

Jon hadn't seen look-alike Burke up close like Jack had, but he had been pretty certain that the man was not just a brother. There were a lot of questions, but Jon had to wonder if Parker had a twin or even knew he had a twin. Stranger things had happened over the years with twins being separated at birth and not knowing about each other. He stretched his arms above his head and flexed the muscles in his shoulders. The shower had been great, but he was tired and needed to be heading home soon.

"How much are you going to tell Sergeant Parker?"

Jack's eyes narrowed as he looked at the younger man. Jon was in great shape, but he had played hockey for 60 intense minutes and was looking tired, but not as tired as Jack was feeling. Knowing he would have to be cautious with anything he told Parker, Jack replied, "Not as much as he will want." Seriously, what could he tell the guy? Jack knew that he would need to be honest, but not very forthcoming.

Jon pushed a button that should not have surprised Jack. "I want to be at the meeting. Will you call me?"

Jack's eyebrows almost hit his silver hairline as he stared at the young clone. He must be tired because he should have seen that coming and he also knew that it was a lousy idea. The kid couldn't be serious, could he? Oh yeah, but a hockey star, playing in the public eye every game did not need any negative publicity and Jack was not certain that their being questioned would even be kept under wrap. Thinking that he should call his own chain of command, Jack expressed his own opinion, starting with, "I don't think that's a good idea, Jon."

He explained his position, why the kid needed to stay out of it, and the two were silent for many seconds before Jon finally agreed. And it was after Jack had agreed to tell him what he found out about Parker and Burke. Then Jon had called for a car and Jack lightened the waiting time by telling him about his visit to the Niagara Falls Air Reserve Station that morning, and the younger O'Neill made Jack laugh with a few stories of his own, including several about getting back and forth across the border. Jon had faced a whole new set of challenges while playing professional hockey in Toronto and serving in the U.S. Air Reserve at Niagara Falls.

He had been with Detachment 925 Air Force ROTC at the University of Wisconsin at Madison before graduating in two and a half years and had then joined the Air Reserve with the Joint Chiefs' blessings. He was a unique reservist, a cross between an Individual Mobilization Augmentee (IMA) and a Traditional Reservist (weekend warrior) and was scheduled to serve until his 25th birthday when his active duty rank could kick in or until his 26th birthday, depending on the state of the universe, and according to the President, his hockey career.

Hayes admired Jack O'Neill and knew that the young clone was every bit the same man, except younger, and would most certainly throw himself into his Air Force career, striving and succeeding at everything he attempted. A military career required sacrifice and Hayes knew that Jon's would be just as great as Jack's had been. As President he had been able to reward the older O'Neill in small ways, though not nearly enough to properly repay the man for all he had given. Knowing that the younger O'Neill carried the same memories as Jack, up until 2003 that is, Hayes knew it had been a horrific burden and giving the young man an extended childhood had been his pleasure. The kid hadn't really had a childhood, at least not his own and playing professional hockey had been a dream. With his own natural abilities, Jon had made the college team and then the professional one and the President had been adamant about leaving him alone to fulfill his, and Jack's dream on the ice. If they needed him, he could be activated earlier than 25 or 26, but Hayes had expressed hope that it wouldn't happen. It was the least that they could do for Jon O'Neill, and by extension, for Jack too.

* * *

It had been a short night and Jack was envious of Jon, who could not only survive, but actually function on little sleep. He'd come back to his room from the breakfast area to find the phone message light blinking and had guessed that Greg Parker must have called to arrange a meeting, but he had been very surprised to discover that it had not been Parker, but Major Paul Davis who had called. After speaking with Davis, Jack had called a friend in D.C. before shaving and showering. He had tossed a damp towel onto a rack and wrapped a dry one around his waist when the phone rang.

* * *

Greg had woken early and gone into work early and was not surprised to find Ed already there too. The two men had talked briefly the night before so the first thing they had done was run a quick general internet search on Jack O'Neill. They had found very little because he was not listed in the D.C. phone directory and did not own his place of residence, at least not the address given on his driver's license. He'd been arrested for murder in 2003 and cleared of all charges, and had owned property in Colorado and Minnesota. After learning that the man had been in the Air Force, Greg and Ed knew that he'd lived other places too and they were discussing a more extensive background check when Jules walked in, much earlier than she usually ever did.

"We have to know more about him," she had stated emphatically after reading what they had found out. "Just because he was with Jon O'Neill doesn't mean he's okay."

Greg had agreed, but for different reasons and after further discussion and a phone call a few minutes later, Greg had contacted O'Neill without knowing anything else about him. Jules had been against him meeting the man alone and Ed, while not seeing the man as the same threat that she did, had convinced Greg to let the team back him up. It hadn't been long before everyone was present and voicing their opinions, with Jack's murder charge being a hot topic. Greg had let them all talk for a few minutes and then he had put a stop to it.

Now 15 minutes ahead of the agreed meeting time, Greg plopped down onto a chair to wait for O'Neill. He had wanted to meet him alone, but with the team being over protective that was not going to be possible, so he had agreed to meet in the lobby of the Holiday Inn Express while two of the others checked out the hotel room. He'd elected to wear his uniform, mainly to remind the man that he was speaking with a police officer, but also because the team could get a call at any time and they needed to be ready. After speaking with the manager, Greg and Ed had been certain that O'Neill had gone back to his room after breakfast and was still there, presumably waiting to come down to the lobby for his meeting with Greg.

Ed was sitting across from Greg on a small sofa and Spike was positioned down from the front check-in desk, where the manager had been nervously wondering what the police were really doing in his hotel. Wordy and Jules had entered the stairwell to climb up to the fourth floor to wait for O'Neill to leave his room so they could then get inside, and the rest of the team had stayed outside in the parking lot with the van.

Greg had just reached for a magazine from the end table next to his chair when a uniformed Jack O'Neill strode into the lobby from the outside, surprising everyone when he removed his hat and walked right up to them. Greg and Ed were immediately on their feet looking at Jack, who smiled at their surprise. Spike had come from around the corner and after a look from Ed was on the radio quickly to alert Jules and Wordy that the man was not in his hotel room and that they should get in there.

Offering his hand, Jack greeted Greg first. "Sergeant Parker, it's nice to meet you. I'm Jack O'Neill." Then he offered his hand to Ed, who took it while looking at him closely. "Officer Lane. It's good to see you."

Jack was a master at disarming with charm, and surprise, and after shaking the two men's hands, he smiled and asked, "How did you and your sons like the game last night?"

TBC

* * *

Relationship between Greg and his ex-wife – I'm guessing. Where do Dean and his Mom live? I'm guessing. On the show I think Dean said he'd come north to get to Greg's workplace. As for Dean's age, on the show I think it came out that he's 16.

Relationship between Ed and his wife – I only know she wants their family to have priority and she's pregnant. I'm guessing about everything else. As for Clark, I don't know how old he is but for my story he is a little younger than Dean, maybe almost 15 or 15 going on 16, but a little younger than Dean.

* * *

Thank you for reading and thanks in advance for reviewing.


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